September 12, 2014 - 16:18
The last post that I made, I told a story about a guy, a drug addict to be more precise, in a raging fit about God knows what. He was looked at, recorded, made fun of, ignored, pitied, yet never helped by the on-lookers. And being that I was one of the on-lookers, yet I did nothing, really made me think back to the short story, The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas, by Ursula Le Guin.
In the story, Omelas was this utopia, but in a hidden basement, away from the public eye, lived this poor and secluded child who suffered for the happiness of everyone in the city. I find the man that I encountered, was very similar to the child who suffered in Omelas. Although this man wasn’t hidden, he did suffer for the happiness of his family. He was ostracized, and seen as abnormal to the others in the community. He wasn’t what the typical person in that neighborhood looked like, and he didn’t behave how all the others behaved. He wore the worst clothes, while everyone rocked the latest trends. He was very skinny, while all the men were big and husky and muscular. He smelled of urine and feces, while people wouldn’t walk out the house without spraying their last spritz of perfume on themselves. And lastly, he was miserable, while everyone was having the time of their lives on this nice summer day, much like the child in Omelas.
Previously, in my last post, I talked about how the look that this man gave me first drew me in to watch him, and next that by figuring out why this guy was a drug addict and homeless allowed me to feel empathy for him and connect in a certain way that I didn’t think was possible. Yet, I didn’t go over to figure out why the man was so upset, or give him any money, or food. I just simply watched, empathized and walked away, just like the people in Omelas did to the child. To take it one step further, I kind of forgot about this man until I read this prompt and the other postings. In the short story, it says, “Their tears at the bitter injustice dry when they begin to perceive the terrible justice of reality, and to accept it. Yet it is their tears and anger, the trying of their generosity and the acceptance of their helplessness, which are perhaps the true source of the splendor of their lives” (Le Guin).
My contact zone with this homeless man truly represents the contact zone between the people of Omelas and this child. I see this man, and temporarily “connect” with him and then just like that I forget about his suffering because there is nothing that can be done. This acceptance of helplessness has fooled me, as well as the people who are horrified by the conditions of this child into believing that the state that this man is in, and the state that the child is in is better left unbothered to keep the social structure the same, the equilibrium, and our image upheld within the community. No one bothers to figure out what can be done to help this poor man or child. They walk away, like I did, or like many of my friends’ families did, they move as a way to escape what they see, and are tormented by every day.